Let Him Stumble Sometimes
by IndianSpice
Summary: One parter. DHr: Have you ever realized that the worst way to miss someone is when they're right beside you--close enough for you to touch--and yet, you know that you can never have them?


**Disclaimer: **I do not own the character of Harry Potter; they are the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and other affiliates. I am simply borrowing them for the sheer pleasure of fan fiction; no profits are being made.

**Author's Notes: **This might sound rather cliché—this is my first Harry Potter fan fiction, which obviously makes it my first Draco/Hermione piece. I haven't been in this fandom very long, but immediately fell in love with both of these characters. After **Kait** demanded that I write a D/Hr fic, I was at the dentist with a numb mouth, and the idea came to me. Plus, I think I was possessed because I wrote this in one sitting, which proves that I am some what dedicated. Now, that really does scare me. But I blame it on my dentist injecting something more than numbing stuff in my mouth. Heh. Actually, I wrote this to get back in to the swing of writing; I hope it works.

**Dedications: **To **Kait** and **Nicole my evil and demanding muses. To ****SB, because se introduced me into the fan fiction world of HP. To **Liza** for showing me the fascinating world that is Draco and Hermione. To **Iris**, the newly (closeted) D/Hr convert, and **Jamie**, the other half of my mind—both of them diligently beta-ed this. And lastly, to anyone who gives this story a chance. You guys rock!**

Enjoy, Priya

*              *              *

**::Let Him Stumble (Sometimes)::**

**::by Priya::**

I have come to realize that destiny can hurt a person as much as it can bless him, and I find myself wondering why—out of all the people in all the world I could have ever loved—I had fall in love with someone who was taken away from me.

*              *              *

_"Draco," she called out, her eyes darting suspiciously in the cool, dark night. "Draco!" she practically yelled this time, wincing when she heard her own booming echo. She lowered her voice significantly this time, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention, and tried a different approach. "Malfoy!" When she heard no response, she started mumbling incoherently, but was not deterred in her search for me. As she continued walking, another thick and dark velvet curtain was dropped on to the night sky, enveloping the stars and causing the pale moon to become the only source of light. Groaning, she pulled out her wand, lighting it by softly whispering, "Lumos." She took a few steps towards a large tree and leaned against its trunk. "Draco, you git, where are you?" she muttered, clearly annoyed. _

_She took in her surroundings. Despite the lack of light, it was a beautiful night. The warm autumn breeze blew through her chestnut curls, and she ran a careless hand through it, pushing it out of her eyes. The moonlight lent an ethereal sheen to the water, while some of the scattered stars began peeking through the heavy clouds. _

_I crept up behind the tree—her head was turned to the other side so I took the opportunity to fan her cheek with my breath. She must've felt it because she instinctively turned towards me. I saw a flash of brown, before I collided with her head with a loud" thwack". She pulled her head back, and her hand flew to her forehead, where bruise was starting to form. "Lovely," she said sarcastically, and then turned to face me, the sneak who had marred her skin. _

_"Hey there," I greeted nonchalantly, raising a hand to touch her forehead with a finger, and began tracing ever so lightly that it almost felt like a feather against her skin. "That's going to leave an ugly mark." I softly kissed her temple._

_"Not as bad as that will," she poked my forehead with a finger, and grinned when I let out an "ouch." Satisfied that she had been right, she grinned even more broadly. "See."_

_"You like seeing me hurt," I noted and feigned pain, clutching my head._

_"No," she rolled her eyes, "I just like seeing you bruised," she joked. Then, stood on her tip-toes and lightly kissed the middle of my forehead. _

_"I must admit, bruises make me look sexy," I remarked unabashedly. _

_She adapted a nasal voice, obviously mimicking one of the Gryffindor girls because Slytherins wouldn't dare sound like that. "Oh, yes, it brings out your manliness. You're so bloody irresistible, Draco!" She swooned in my arms, melodramatically, and I quirked up an eyebrow. "Although, you, my dear, spend far too much time in front of the mirror, if you are noticing what bruises accentuate your features." She tweaked my nose playfully._

_"Well," I drawled, tugging at her hair, "I must do my part, seeing as you hardly take up after your own." He smiled, and then slowly added. "Actually, I love your hair. It fits you very well."_

_"I'm glad you approve, sire." She did a mock curtsy as I slung both of his arms around her shoulders, drawing her near. "And, what exactly do you think you're doing?" She eyed me suspiciously, biting her lip._

_I grinned wickedly "Exactly what you want me to." Before she could protest, I pulled her close and she sank into me. I felt the warmth of her body radiating into me. Then slowly, wrapping both of my arms around her I drew her in closer, and softly kissed her lips. After pulling back slightly to look at her—she was responding oddly—I kissed her again, but this time with more passion. She kissed me back furiously, pouring so much of herself into the kiss—like she was trying to make this kiss last for eternity. _

_She finally broke the kiss, "Breathe. We need to breathe." She rested her forehead against mine, and I could see that something was off. The usually adoring look that filled her eyes was gone—instead I saw something else. Was it regret? _

_"Enough of that," I said, tracing her throat, and laying a damp kiss on her neck like a butterfly touch. I trailed up—upon reaching her ear, I nibbled it, my hands tracing the outline of her spine. She parted her lips, feeling the tenderness of my touch. That was the only invitation I needed to bring my head down and kiss her fully on the lips. Before I could pursue that, she stopped me, gently pushing me away._

_"What's the matter?" I asked cautiously, aware of her odd behavior._

_She took both of my hands and wrapped hers inside of mine. Looking up at me, she frowned. "We should talk." She must've seen the serious expression on my face, because she hastily added in, "It's not too serious."_

_My nerves eased a bit, as I slumped down on the ground, Hermione following my action as well. I scooted closer to her, one hand protectively encircled around her waist. "You may continue," I said in a deep voice, trying to lighten the silence that had fallen between us. _

_She didn't laugh—instead she looked away, her eyes glazed and distant. "Draco," her voice quivered as it called to me uncertainly, "I'm using you," she blurted out, not looking me in the eyes. She repeated it again, and broke free of my grasp on her hand. "I'm using you."_

_I didn't understand. "We all use each other, Hermione. By all means, go ahead and use me." I laughed at this._

_"You don't understand," she was right because I didn't. "This—what we have—is all an act." Her eyes became glossy. "Professor Dumbledore came to me and proposed the idea of us becoming a couple. This would ensure Harry's protection—I did it because of him, Draco." _

_What the bloody hell did she mean this wasn't too serious? Anything involving that slimy git was serious, especially if it came out of Hermione's mouth. I couldn't believe it; even this had to do with that bastard. _

_By now she had completely extracted herself from me and was huddled in a tiny ball. "Dumbledore thought that getting us together would make it easier for Harry. Being with you would let me keep a close eye on the contact between you and your father. He wanted you to open up to me, and tell me all that you know about their plans. I could find out if there was great harm coming our way and when it was. We needed to be ready." She stopped, taking a deep breathe. A stony silence was upon us now, and I still couldn't move. "The other night when you told me about your family, and some other information, Dumbledore was listening to it all. He had enchanted the earrings I was wearing so he could listen in. He got all the information he needed." She looked at me. "My job is done now. I thought I would end this before it went on any further." _

_The earrings that I__ had given to her_?___ I knew this wasn't really the point, but amidst all that drama, the earrings were what got my attention. Bloody hell. I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. _

_When she gently laid a hand on my shoulder, I flinched at the contact, but let it remain. "I don't love you the way you love me, Draco. It was all an act. I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you—you need to understand that." Her faces glowed red as she looked as me curiously._

_My mind was fogged up and progressing rather sluggishly, which made it even harder for me to perceive the important things. She didn't want to hurt me? Had she lost her marbles? What the hell did she think she was doing to me right now? And, she didn't love me? "Oh, Merlin," I groaned out loud. The impact of her words shook me harder than any Bludger attack. _

_She didn't love me. _

_That's when my world started spinning; I was in a haze. She didn't love me. It rolled around in my head. It was all an act. That meant all she had told me, all the things that we had shared were all a lie. Nothing was real. She was a lie. It was all a lie. That conniving little Mudblood. I shrugged off her hand viciously, my lips curling in disgust. I blanched, my face becoming deathly white, which meant a lot considering I looked like I had never seen the light of day as it was. Shaking, I stood up. "I never said I loved you," I spat out coldly. _

_She looked at me confusedly, her face burning a fierce red. "But you—"_

_Suddenly, my world was spinning. What the hell was happening? I couldn't break down. Not now. I wouldn't show her that she had gotten to me. I wouldn't show her that I cared. I wouldn't show her I was weak. Then, I did the only thing I could: I reverted back to someone I had suppressed for a long time, I conjured up the old Draco Malfoy._

_ With the help of adapting back to my old ways, I plastered a smirk on my face. "Well, I'm glad someone fell for it," I stated smugly. "Really, now," I circled her like a vulture, "take a bow, Granger, the show's over." When I got no response from her, I continued. "Merlin, Granger, do you really think I'm that big of an idiot?" I asked incredulously, not waiting for an answer. "I've known all along what you were doing. I just played along with your sweet charade," I lied, my voice as smooth as silk._

_It was her turn to be horrified. She gripped onto the tree for support. "But why?"_

_My smirk broadened. "For someone as smart as you, you can sure be naïve." I eyed her figure slowly, drinking in the sight of her one last time. I knew she got the message because before I knew it, I felt her hand on my cheek. I swayed a little from the impact, my hand flying to the stinging side of my face. "What makes you think," I hissed, getting right in her face, and grasping both of her wrists painfully, "that you can touch me like that?"_

_Tears were now streaming down her face, and she angrily spat out. "You deserved it…You. Bastard."_

_Somewhere deep inside of me, a voice was telling me not to hurt her—it wanted me to wipe those tears that stained her face. And, I listened. In fact, I became so hypnotized by it that I raised my fingers to do so, but then suddenly stopped, paralyzed, and realized what was happening. In some grotesque, tormented way, I was glad that she was crying. I wanted to see her hurt as badly as she hurt me._

_"You.__ Mudblood." I snarled, "You deserve this!" In that moment of sheer confusion and terror, I was fighting my body for control. One side wanted to kill her; the other wanted to kiss her. It seemed that the latter one won because my head bent down to capture her lips in a fiery kiss. I pinned her up against the trunk of the tree, bringing her body as close to mine as possible. I now understood why she was kissing me like she was earlier—she would never get to do it again. I pulled away after tasting the bittersweet taste of temptation that curled in the crevices of her mouth. "Goodbye, Granger," I said finally, "It was fun…while it lasted."_

_In a couple of strides I had almost traversed across half of the field, and when I reached the main door, I peered over the horizon and saw her limp form. I guess I had won. It seemed I had killed her with my kiss._

_I hated her, I thought as I stepped inside the threshold that divided us._

*              *              *

I inhale sharply, dispelling the memory like smoke. They say time heals wounds; it has been a year and mine hasn't even slightly mended. 

A few nights after that debacle, I contemplated whether or not I should owl my father, letting him know exactly what had happened. I decided against it because I didn't want any harm to be done to _her. It's pathetic how much she got to me. _

Anger, is vicious, a monster tearing at you with ugly claws, leaving you bleeding and broken-hearted. Even though she left me blind with anger, ripped me up, and smashed my heart into a fucking million pieces, I couldn't bare to see her head being smashed into a million pieces, if my father ever found out about this. So I didn't write, and once again, she was saved. 

I think that was part of the masterful plan that Dumbledore devised: to fool me enough to reveal secrets about my family, and to affect me enough to not get her slaughtered. So far it's a bloody brilliant plan—seeing as how it's working and all.

Of course, after our little ordeal, Potty and Weasel confronted me. They didn't know that Dumbledore had suggested that devious plan; they thought Hermione had gone nutters and _really_ liked me. After hearing that, I got a thrill out of telling Weasley that even though Hermione had come on top, I still had fun playing her, especially considering how easy she was. And apparently, Weasel got a thrill out of pounding my face to pulp. 

It went pretty smoothly for the gossip mill from then on. Rumors circulating about I had manipulated Hermione and taken out Weasley and Potter, which wasn't really true, but hey, who am I to interfere and deprive people like Parvati and Lavender of juicy gossip? I didn't mind too much because they were good for my ego. That is, until I saw her face—being taunted by other Slytherins—how she was only notch to my belt of success. I laughed at her too, despite myself. However, that didn't help at all—it was an even bigger stroke on my heart. 

Then came my little fling with Pansy Parkinson. By that time, I thought that I should be on the prowl again—it would be bad for my reputation, if I didn't go out with any other after Hermione. Pansy practically worshipped me—I had known her since we were kids—but I had no idea she was so outrageously clingy. Being, the Head Boy, and having my own personal room, I had made the mistake to utter the password in her vicinity. My privacy was lost from then on. She loved redecorating my room every week, alternating my pillows daily—she blabbered something about "the energy waves flowing from the pillows' position will provide better sex"—in reality, it didn't. The truth was that I hadn't slept with Hermione, and very time I did with Pansy, I imagined her beneath me. That was just too much; it ended right there.

Damn, Granger and her innocently perverse ways.

I hate her. I hate the way that she's not affected by any of this. I hate the way she can go on in the perfect little life of hers, smiling and being charming, per usual, without crying or being hurt by the ordeal. I know that it's pathetic, but I still relish the fact that she cried when I told her that I, too, was using her and when I kissed her. I live off vicariously from that—knowing that I stirred some kind of emotion inside of her to make her shed tears. Over me.

My glance drifts over to the Gryffindor table, where she is laughing. Her head is tilted up, curly locks splayed back, honey eyes dance lightly in the happy atmosphere, twinkling with joy. She looks beautiful, and I feel compelled to be the one giving her such a pleasure. Suddenly, she looks up and her face turns to stone. She has seen me—watching her. But she doesn't turn away just then—instead her face contorts into an expression that I can only call disgust. Her once carefree eyes flash darkly at me, and she gets out of her seat, mumbling something to Potter and Weasley, and bolts out of the door. 

This happens quite regularly; I'm used to it by now. Though I still don't understand why _I_ get all the dirty looks. Wasn't she the one who used me? Women, I sigh loudly, pondering to myself, always a mystery. I sullenly watch her retreating figure, silently willing her not to run away. But this time, something compels me to go after her. And, I do.

I curse myself silently; I've changed so much for this girl. Hell, I've even become an expert stalker now. I've learned how to watch her without her knowing, but that's rarely a problem because she never looks in my direction. Until right now. With just one glance, even if it is a rather nasty one, she manages to get my heart beating faster. After all this time, she still has it, and I hate her for it.

Nonetheless, I cannot stop myself from following her, nor can I admit to myself that I still might care for her. The fact is that I really didn't want to act like I did that night, but I couldn't bear to swallow my pride either. I did it to be strong. I was wretched to her, but I was crying inside—I was terrified. I've never opened up to someone as I did with her, and look where that got me.

Suddenly, I hear a pained moan escape her lips as she stops—her back against a wall. I want to jump out and see if she's all right, but I restrain myself. I hear a soft thud, which I can only explain to be her small fist banging against the wall. Then, I hear her babbling, instructing herself to breathe along with a few "Oh, Merlins". And then my ears catch something so shocking that I almost fall.

She says my name.

_Draco_.

Followed by some obscenities, of course.  But nonetheless, she still says my name. I don't realize, but I'm grinning very broadly, glad that I touched her in some way. 

How I would love to be the bricks in the wall right now, and be able to feel her warm body leaning against mine. I try to contain the emotions and memories inside of me, but it's inevitable that they will break lose. They will flood me and conquer me.

Suddenly, I want to jump out from my secure position, behind the wall, and call out her name. Suddenly, I don't care about the ties that bind—I don't care about what my father will do to me, or worse, what punishment the Dark Lord will give me. I chuckle softly, not caring if she hears me, and think what the hell happened to me? What happened that turned me inside out? What happened that touched my black soul? What made me the Draco Malfoy am I today? What made me so ludicrous, weak, and miserable? What the hell happened?

She happened, my conscience reminds me.

But why? I ask the eternal question yet again, and surprisingly, I answer it myself this time.

Because of the way her eyebrows furrow when she concentrates, because of her nonstop facts and theories that bring tingles into my chest, because of her insane quality to write essays twice as long as they should be, which makes me laugh out loud. Because her hand fits perfectly into mine, because of the way her face breaks into a beautiful smile, because of the way she looks at me with her head tilted to the side that makes my heart beat erratically. Because of the way her soft hair feels between my fingers, because of the way her eyes light up and glisten brighter than the sun. Because her innocence cleanses me. Because her mind inspires me to soar above and beyond, because of her touch that burns into my skin even through the thick fabric of my robes, because her voice has enigmatic magic that turns my name into a religious experience. Because I can just tell she's going to be something great in life with or without me, and I desperately wants the first. Because she makes me feel big and so small at the same time. Because with one glance, she can bring out all these rush of emotions, and because with one glance meant for someone else, she can take them all away from me.  
  
Because not one of the reasons are good enough.

Because I _love her. _

I cannot believe what I have just thought, but I really don't give a damn. Because it's true. I stumbled from my path of darkness and right into her welcoming arms of love.

I have the need to seek her out. Just as I turn the corner, fully ready to reveal myself, I see that she has already left.

My breathing becomes shallow as I hear the echoes of her shoes walking away towards the library. Pent up anger and frustration swells up inside of my chest, and I can't take it anymore. I make a sharp turn around the corner, and start jogging. I don't really know where I am going, but then again, it's not like I care. 

I can see her now when she stops abruptly, as if she feels my presence behind her. Her body stiffens as she makes a sharp 180 turn, now facing me. I continue ambling towards her, my face remaining emotionless. I think that she's a figment of my imagination—she's the Hermione that has been ingrained in my mind—I see her with my eye lids open or shut. But she's never this clear, this vivid—it's always a more ambiguous picture. Suddenly, I realize that she _is_ real. And, I too, stop dead in my tracks. We're inches apart from each other. I can reach out and trace the curves of her face. But I don't. For I know that I will get burned.

I look at her.

She looks at me.

We stare at each other for eternity. 

The familiar pain and longing washes over me, and I wish that I could take her in my arms again and just hold her. It is then I realize that the worst way to miss someone is when they're right beside you—close enough for you to touch—and yet, you know that you can never have them. Ironic, isn't it?

Before I have a chance to act out what my heart desires, our connection is broken and she takes the opportunity to make a run for it. Who knows where to. But all that matters is that she's running away from me.

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Est Finis

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